


Vile Romance

by Destii



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Flash Fic, Lyrium Addiction, Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destii/pseuds/Destii
Summary: Just a flash fic for the Dare To Write Challenge: http://inkstay.tumblr.com/post/143937584209/dare-to-write-challenge





	

The lyrium sang as he removed the lid of the vial, the harsh, blue-white glow piercing the room. Cullen tapped the vial against the edge of the spoon, watching as the powder tumbled onto it.

The song erupted.

Where it had been quiet and soothing before, it was now brazen and demanding. Cullen closed his eyes briefly, his hands shaking and his balance faltering. He shifted in his chair, cleared his throat, opened his eyes. He gently settled the measuring spoon back into its box before closing the vial again.

Cullen retrieved the spoon with practised movements. Always watching, always careful, never losing a speck. He tipped the powder into a leather bottle, filled with the magical substance Templars use to draught lyrium. The light of the lyrium settled into a sullied glow that seeped from the bottle, alluring and comforting. Cullen stoppered the bottle and laid it on the desk, sighing in relief.

The song ceased.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the wood and closing his eyes, waiting for the shaking and the sweating to pass. His shirt clung to his back, tight across his cold skin that felt, to him, like it was bathed in mage-fire. His head pounded, veins full of hot blood. Voices haunted him, like spirits sent to torment him for his sins. His eyelid twitched, convulsive and inescapable, moving with each beat of his heart. His fingers curled reflexively around the bottle - tightening, tightening - in want and despair.

'Maker, preserve me,’ he whispered, his lips pressing against the desk and marring the words. He pushed himself upright, the room spinning and his stomach lurching. Familiar figures stood in the corners of the darkness, broken and bloodied. He stared into their faces, like always. With a quick motion, he shook the bottle a couple times, opened it, tilted his head back and poured the lyrium down his throat.


End file.
